Thursday 16 June 2016

Dear est Jericho:



You stood, the door
open
behind you
my eyes                       shocked           at the the light
as it                 pours               in
like burnished sound from a trumpet’s polished mouth

and the walls came crashing down
walls once solid now liquid
terrible waves                         carrying           a terrible                     fate
the world is not
what only moments before
it was perceived to be…

the blood                     draining                       to my fear,
ears pealing                appealing
when the mouth would not               stubborn mouth          perched
like a contented cat
upon the destruction of all formed before,
the heart         a horde            of         wildebeest
running in every                                                          direction
crashing into themselves
then running off again…

and I                                        sat
in the post-laminated kitchen                        beyond repair,
my hands calmly folded in my           flaccid             lap,
the tea still     steaming         before me
in its chipped, favorite cup
and                                          around
the home came          tumbling         down.

and the walls come crashing down
walls once solid now liquid
terrible waves                         carrying           a terrible                     fate
the world is not
what only moments before
it was perceived to be…

I remember reading somewhere —
or perhaps       I           made   this      up
to         defeat
that detonation as cold          and as loud
as any arctic blast —

In         the middle      of the tempest
dwells             the solitude                 of despair
none    can see,          none    that look
and none         that care, especially not         those that       once                did.

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